Hutt Campaign V
The Constriction of Hutt Space
Coruscant bubbled with debate and uncertainty. The HoloNet raged with news of a rogue Jedi and her increasingly successful crusade against the Hutts and their internal slave trade. A war unlike anything seen in a thousand years brewed within the borders of Hutt Space. Reporters, major and minor alike, followed the secretive, unfolding campaign as news trickled throughout the galaxy. Many rejoiced upon hearing about the ongoing campaign, their hearts lightened by stories that the terrible, cruel Hutts suffered at the hand of a Jedi daring enough to oppose that ancient foe of the Republic. Some even considered taking their ships—freighters and yachts, snubfighters and corvettes—to Hutt Space and joining the crusade. A few had even left, convinced glory and honor awaited them in the Outer Rim.
But in the halls of power, within the Jedi Temple and the Senate, many wondered a single question: who granted Jedi Knight Whae Rynn permission to strike against the Hutts? The Senate had already attempted to call the Jedi to account, and they had only advised patience.
The Jedi Council gathered, troubled by the subversion of their authority. While they supported the actions in their hearts, none among their number had dared assign the task of fighting the Hutt slave trade to Knight Rynn. The Jedi Shadow had been tasked with other business in the Outer Rim.
"It is clear that we must summon her back to Coruscant," said Master Ki-Adi-Mundi. "Knight Rynn has overstepped the bounds of her prior assignment, and risks open war between the Republic and the Hutts through the choices she has made."
Troubled hums and grunts answered the Jedi Master's words.
"I do not think this is Knight Rynn's work," said Jedi Master Mace Windu, unprompted. He leaned back in his seat, a troubled furrow on his brow. "I fear that someone has claimed her identity and uses it to convince former slaves and firebrands alike that she's one of us."
"Why would they steal the identity of a Jedi?" asked Ki-Adi-Mundi. "Surely there are simpler identities to use."
"Not question we should be asking," observed Yoda, Grand Master of the Jedi Order. "More important to ask 'how' our false Jedi pretends of our number, yes?" He then hummed, mind drifting back a few years. His brows furrowed. Could that presence in the dark side be the responsible party? Yoda did not know how or why a Sith could be involved in Jedi affairs. But the possibility of a Sith Lord in the galaxy disturbed him nonetheless.
He observed the Council as they continued to bicker and argue over the false Jedi. Yoda kept his knowledge to himself. He had already chosen another Jedi to investigate his suspicion. A name he could trust, for that Jedi also knew how dangerous the dark side was to the Jedi and the continued existence of peace and justice in the galaxy.
Gladiolus glanced about the spartan interior of the landing shuttle. Eleven troopers sat about her, blaster rifles slung across their hips as they waited for deployment. Several carried specialized equipment; some weapons, others with gear to ease infiltration or to get around siege defenses. Unlike her, they wore body armor, dulled and slightly burnt by blaster fire. She did not know how it would perform against whatever weapons the slavers on Ylesia possessed. But if her people believed in their gear, then she would believe in them. Otherwise, she would be forced to only have faith in herself. If her crusade was to succeed and last, she needed to believe completely in those who followed her and witness their successes with her own eyes.
And that's why I allowed Admiral Yumerra to take most of the Third Fleet to Diyu and meet with Niem. A few ships remain in orbit to handle operations here and protect against any counterattacks. If those two do as commanded, then most of the Shag Pabol will be severed from the Y'Toub syste—
The shuttle rattled. The dim red interior flashed black then filled with pale natural light as small flaps above opened. Magnetic seals over each opening kept air from howling through. Gladiolus did not blink against the influx of bright light. The Force filled her, granting her strength beyond common comprehension. The power made her eyes feel as though a thin film glazed over them, filtering the worst of the blinding light. Her troopers would not worry about the light, for their visors would protect their eyes.
A blue light flashed near the shuttle bay's rear. Gladiolus and the troopers rose to their feet. A second blue light flashed. The bay door retracted inward on silent hydraulics, revealing Ylesia's surface almost a kilometer below them. The air had yet to fill with blaster and laser fire. Soon it would. Gladiolus's braided hair fluttered behind her, caught in the wind. With a thread of her power, she drew it close to her back.
A third blue light flashed.
She leaped from the bay first, followed by her troopers. For a heartbeat, Gladiolus flew as she had so long ago when she was a different girl playing Quidditch. Memories of those wondrous games filled her with a sweetness alien to her present nature.
And then she began falling.
The Sith Lord flattened, piercing the air like a spear. The troopers behind her had small jetpacks to soften the jump once they neared the ground. But Gladiolus? Her power in the Force would be enough to land safely and begin the fight against the enemy.
Around three hundred feet from the surface, lasers fire filled the air. Gladiolus twirled and glided through the air, adjusting her course with a casual wave of power. She sensed her troopers following in her wake, using her course to guide their way.
Bursts drew closer and closer the nearer Gladiolus got to the surface. Without the foresight granted by her power in the Force, the Sith Lord would have been struck by a stray blast. Instead, she avoided shot after shot, bargaining on her power to cast doubt and fear into the hearts of the slavers defending their ghastly cruel operations on an otherwise tranquil world. Between that, her foresight, and bursts of power from her hands, she moved about the sky as though she might suddenly begin flying.
Power gathered within Gladiolus as she neared the surface. The instant she made contact with the wooded ground, that power exploded outward, flowing through the soil to every weapon emplacement within a hundred fifty feet. They exploded in unison, each vaporizing their gunnery crews in a heartbeat. Few if any would notice their deaths before they became nothing.
Her troopers landed seconds later in groups of two and a final trio, all with rifles raised.
"I sense slaves to the north," said Gladiolus. "Fan out. I want us to cover about a hundred feet of territory."
The troopers nodded. Without the need to argue and debate, they spread out from her position. The furthest each went about fifty feet from where she stood. Amusingly, not one moved until Gladiolus strode forward, using the Force to sense her target. Misery rose in abundance from the site, mixed with the perverse pleasure of dominating the naïve and the foolish. The feelings filled Gladiolus with disgust, transforming any hope of mercy into fractious rage. The dark side whispered in her ear, filling her mind with the pain and cruelty she should inflict upon the slavers.
She glided through the wood, a ghoul hungering for blood. Her lightsaber found its way into her grasp as she moved, the kyber crystal within thrumming in tune with her emotions. Though taken from a Jedi dead by her hand, the crystal had come to accept Gladiolus. It did not feed her hatred as the crimson kyber crystal of her other lightsaber did, but the yellow did not turn aside from her feelings. It accepted them for what they were and continued with its existence as though her anger was the most natural thing in the universe.
Gladiolus paused at the edge of a clearing. She gazed upon a small boxy factory about nine hundred feet before her, nondescript beyond a single tower releasing a faint trail of pale gas and a pair of large bay doors. Two small shuttles rested on landing pads about a hundred fifty feet on her side of the factory, their pilots sitting at a sabacc table embedded into the nearby control tower. She sensed they were on edge, yet the pilots continued playing their game. Her brows furrowed, wondering why they would remain so nonchalant. Did they think they could draw her force out of cover so?
The comlink in her ear buzzed. The commanding trooper asked, "How do we proceed forward, ma'am?"
"How many snipers do we have?" she asked, lips barely parting.
"Two, ma'am."
"What eyes do we have on the control tower?"
The trooper fell silent for several long seconds, questioning his snipers. He eventually responded: "There's only one inside. She appears to be busy inspecting herself in a hand mirror, though that won't last long."
Gladiolus grunted, almost disappointed. "Can your best marksmen sans sniper take any of the three shots?"
The silence was shorter. "She can take a pilot, ma'am."
"Good. Once all three have lined up their targets, count them down from five. They fire on one, understood?"
"Understood."
Twelve seconds later, three blaster bolts flew from the wood line. Two struck the pilots in the chest, killing them instantly. The third pierced the transparisteel viewport of the tower. Gladiolus sensed the third perish. The woman had lacked warning and thus was not surprised by her death.
She emerged from cover and began for the nearer landing pad, walking without a care. The Sith Lord opened her senses, searching for signs of hidden security measures or traps. While she could sense holocams set around the factory, they were all placed within the structure minus one on the facility's far side. She nearly sneered at the oversight. Clearly the slavers within assumed their air defenses would be enough to prevent anyone daring enough to liberate their captives.
Gladiolus grinned as she reached the landing pads. The fools never expected one like her to seek them out for destruction.
Troopers formed up to each side, moving in pairs or a trio as they inspected their surroundings. One pair shot up the control tower. The comlink in Gladiolus's ear crackled as she continued for the factory.
"The person in the tower triggered a silent alarm somehow," a trooper reported. "We've deactivated it, but it rang for a few minutes."
"Could be their death flagged the system," the commander suggested. "We'll need to be mindful about our entrance."
"Worry not about the people inside. They've ignored the silent alarm and are pretending everything is normal." She sighed and shook her head. "What fools. I'm surprised they do not care enough about their paid workers to mark them so," murmured Gladiolus. "Then again, I wondered why they lacked cameras on this side of the facility. They don't need cameras to know someone is coming if their outer security is killed."
She tried to not dwell on the lack of alert within. Did the overseers or the operators not believe an attack was imminent? Did they think the silent alarm was false? She sensed how they continued working, as though the presence of Darth Gladiolus and eleven troopers under her command meant nothing to them. Perhaps they did mean nothing to those within. After all, she already suspected the people operating the factory did not fear people arriving on Ylesia with the intention of freeing their slaves. They foolishly assumed anyone who dared come to this tranquil world would be duped by the paradise appearance and fall, unknowingly, into the hands of slavers.
"Proceed with caution, even if everyone inside is clearly ignorant of our presence," Gladiolus continued. "We are not aborting the mission."
"Understood, ma'am."
The troopers grouped closer and closer to Gladiolus as she approached the factory. Her gaze wandered the plain durasteel structure. She spotted several vents across the otherwise barren wall that could be large enough for her to slink through. But her troopers, with their armor and gear, would not be able to follow. They would enter through one of the doors since she could not fathom the walls would be thin enough to carve through.
But if they are…
Gladiolus did not bank toward the bay doors with her troopers. She walked straight to the factory, intent on carving open a passage inside. She thumbed the ignition of her lightsaber, rubbing the button as she reached out with the Force and sensed for anyone near the patch of wall she neared. She only sensed enslaved workers, who all flinched when her power brushed over them. Any overseer nearby missed their flinches, for Gladiolus began noticing them as she drew within fifty feet of the factory. She marked their presence within her mind, but she did not brush across them as she did with the enslaved. And with each of them, she slipped a single message into their minds:
Salvation has arrived.
The Sith Lord stopped before the factory wall. She peered up to the roof maybe two hundred feet above. As her gaze descended the wall, Gladiolus once more reached out with her powers. She took note of the floors above, of the technology within. A crooked smile reached her lips: a munitions factory. She had relied on third parties and merchants until now. But with a factory all her own, she could begin producing weapons and ammunition. She had presumed this place, like many more facilities spread across Ylesia, produced only spice.
But no. It produced something infinitely more valuable to her.
She tapped her comlink. "Alert me once your men are ready, commander."
"Will do, Master Jedi. Are you cutting your way inside?"
She stepped three paces to her right. "I am." Gladiolus ignited her lightsaber and sneered at the yellow blade. She longed to have her crimson blade in hand, but the fiction of her being Jedi Knight Whae Rynn remained firmly in place. While eleven could be convinced to keep a secret, the hundreds within, soon to be freed, would eventually talk. Ears would prickle, tongues would wag, and soon all would know a Sith Lord sought to free the slaves of Hutt Space.
Maybe I should finally reveal my secret—end this fiction, now that the endgame is nearly at hand.
Gladiolus shook her head. Thoughts of future strategy and tactics now, before a fight, could not be entertained. She cast them aside, ready to be gathered at another, more appropriate time.
Her comlink crackled. "We're in position, ma'am."
"Good. Count down from ten and then storm the facility. There are seventeen overseers and twice as many guards within. Leave no survivors from their number."
"And the slaves?"
"We're here to liberate them from their captivity, commander. Be mindful of them. But unless they directly interfere, let them be." Gladiolus slapped the wall before her with her lightsaber, leaving a bright orange trail. "Do minimize causalities, though. Both ours and the enslaved."
"Understood ma'am. Beginning countdown."
Gladiolus nodded. She then slammed her weapon into the wall. Beginning right before her, she drew a hole that she would need to somersault through. But with the Force, she had no cause to fear whatever retaliation waited within. With her powers and skill, she would turn back any attack on her person and push the advantage she would certainly have.
Once her hole was cut, Gladiolus slammed the block of durasteel—and duracrete, curiously enough—with a hardy Force push. The slab of seared material thundered and clattered against the factory floor. She shot through her open gap, yellow blade raised before her. Something tingled at the edge of her awareness, but it was not so strong that she reacted.
Enslaved workers stared at her as she moved among them, searching for the overseers she knew should be near. Gladiolus reached out with the Force just as a klaxon blared. Red lights flashed throughout the factory. The enslaved workers stood at their stations, eyes wandering about dumbly.
Her jaw clenched. These people had not been prepared for anything akin to her invasion of the facility. Gladiolus knew in an instant that the slavers who operated the factory had no plans for invasion, fire, or any other dangers that might necessitate the need to evacuate the facility. No. The people—the enslaved—were little more than tools. She doubted the slavers thought their human workers were of equal value to the machinery and mechanical equipment that ensured the continued operation of the factory.
They will pay for their arrogance and their lack of foresight.
With a low hiss, Gladiolus sprung up to the nearest rafter. She dashed down the path, searching for the overseers and any security the facility possessed. Any who crossed her path would perish by her hand. Any mercy in her heart had been cast aside, sacrificed in the righteous fire of her hatred. Before the day was done, those who operated this factory would suffer the wrath of a Sith Lord. She would learn where those who profited from it hid, and she would visit them as Darth Gladiolus. She would wield her crimson blade, her eyes sulfur and marks exposed. She would kill them all and leave a wake of devastation so brilliant all would know someone with a will and a way had acted.
A bleary-eyed overseer suddenly appeared before her. Her mouth opened—Gladiolus knew not their species, though they were human-shaped—but they said nothing. She swung her blade and severed head from shoulders. Burned hair floated to the ground, falling atop the severed head. She stepped over the corpse, looked left and right, and headed right.
Blaster fire burst out behind her, popping through the security sounds. Gladiolus continued on, for she sensed no threats to her person. She whistled and swung her lightsaber before her, casting a soft yellow light against the red klaxons still blaring around her.
An hour later, when the factory was completely pacified, Gladiolus stood before the enslaved workers and announced their freedom. They stared at her numbly, as though they had convinced themselves nobody would dare step forward and rescue them from their tragic fate. They continued to stare, even as seconds turned to minutes. The Sith Lord watched and waited, struggling to maintain her patience while waiting for their answer.
And then the first slave spoke up. "Could… could we stay here? On Ylesia?"
Gladiolus blinked. "Stay? For what purpose?"
The slave glanced past the Sith Lord to the factory. The damage, miraculously, had been quite minimal. Incompetence prevented any serious resistance to the attack. Gladiolus imagined it could get up and running within a few days of repairs. "Well, we worked at a munitions factory. Won't your people require them?"
The others agreed with murmurs and mutters, none willing to raise their voices high enough to draw attention specifically to them. Yet they all rippled with a disturbing willingness to continue as they had.
Gladiolus glanced at her troopers. They remained present to the man following the factory's liberation. They had fought hard, and they had fought well. Though she could have taken the facility without them, they eased the process. Their presence granted further legitimacy to her claims, to her powers beyond the Force and its workings. She had almost expected their drop shuttle to arrive and take them away once the factory was secured. They looked to her for leadership and to make a decision.
So it all rests upon me—as expected, though. I cannot say I did not desire this. But I had expected they might have opinions of their own. Opinions they wished they could express.
"I do," Gladiolus confirmed. "But I would not force you to remain and work here. If you desire this, then you can continue operating this factory. I will raise from your number those who can be trusted to maintain discipline and order and provide further workers to fill gaps where necessary.
"You will be paid as you deserve, and you will be permitted breaks, proper meals, and vacation time—should you desire it." Gladiolus held out her hands to each side, as though she were a scale weighing their options. "I cannot stomach forcing you to continue with this life after your liberation from slavery. But if this is your choice…"
"It is," declared one from amidst their number. The Sith Lord judged, in the span of a heartbeat, that the speaker would most likely become the next foreman.
"Then it is so," Gladiolus declared. She turned to the trooper commander. "Inform Admiral Yumerra that we will need time here to restore this facility and ensure its maintenance and defense for when we leave. The Third Fleet is welcome to remain with the First until required."
"As you command, ma'am."
Gladiolus nodded. Once the trooper commander turned to contact the admiral, the Sith Lord returned her attention to those newly freed through her intervention. She moved among them, and by some queer turn of fate, did not trouble to mask her Sith nature. The eyes and markings remained hidden. And most wonderfully, they did not withdraw from her. They flocked like moths to the flame, happy to be burned.
"This was not what I expected when we moved to liberate Ylesia," said Admiral Yumerra, five days after the last resistance on the spice-mining world was thoroughly suppressed. Gladiolus glanced at the admiral with narrowed brows. "I did not mean that I thought you would finish your work on Ylesia in a day, though the thought struck my mind long before the fleet jumped to join with Admiral Niem's forces. Nor do I mean that I expected some naval opposition, either from the world itself or sent from elsewhere in Hutt Space."
"You think we've wasted time liberating Ylesia."
"By a fashion, yes. Master Jedi, I understand that tearing out the roots of the slave trade is of tantamount importance. But I also understand that you desire to suppress the Hutts as a galactic power, given the vices they either engage in or inflict upon the weak."
"So, admiral, have I wasted time here on Ylesia?"
Admiral Yumerra sighed. "No, ma'am. Perhaps you have only used your time… poorly. Others could have handled this venture while you completed something more productive, such as visiting the other fleets or stepping outside of Hutt Space to make alliances that'll ensure your gains are not lost."
Gladiolus hummed thoughtfully. She understood Admiral Yumerra's concern and appreciated the woman had other ideas of what could have been done these past several days. She had not expected to oversee the restoration of the factory she helped take personally. The platoons deployed across Ylesia managed to capture the rest of the planet with little assistance on her part, taking a few dozen prisoners and killing everyone else responsible or involved in the slaving process.
Yet not all was achieved without loss. Of the thousand men deployed across the surface of Ylesia, one hundred seventy-four perished fighting in her name. One hundred seventy-four names were inscribed on a list of casualties that Gladiolus maintained for reasons she ignored. She might never know who they were in life, but she would commemorate their memory. Their sacrifices ensured she would achieve her ultimate and final aims.
"I understand. Now, I recall from the past when a spy of Admiral Niem's helped ease one of my early ambushes. Have we learned where this spy is?"
The admiral smiled. "Niem provided me their information two days ago, while you were busy on the surface. I have checked and double-checked their credentials."
"They're legitimate?"
"They are. And they believe they can acquire the codes to bring all five fleets into the Y'Toub system without triggering any defenses. The Sixth, as the new batch of volunteers call themselves, have taken to haunting the lanes leading to and from Sriluur—on this side of the Hutt border, naturally."
Gladiolus paused. She ignored the comment about the new volunteer fleet—she would need to speak with their elected admiral soon—and instead considered the value of codes into the Y'Toub system. While she did not fear an open battle against the Hutts, the ability to sneak her vessels into their home system without sending their defense fleets into high alert could ensure a swift and decisive victory. She had the chance to turn probability into certainty, to deprive her foe of the mechanisms that could buy them a hope of turning her might aside.
"Good. Once we receive those codes, I want the merchandise acquired from Belbo moved onto Nal Hutta. They'll need to be evenly placed and programmed for activation only by myself. Landren will oversee that particular operation."
Admiral Yumerra crossed her arms. "I understand this might seem… forward, ma'am, but what merchandise have you acquired? The crew has grown curious with rumors abounding, and the few Wookiees permitted to work with them have only suggested that they are not to be trifled with."
"I would fear what could happen if they did trifle with my merchandise," said Gladiolus. "As for what they are, now is not the time to tell you. The fewer who know, the safer the secret shall be."
"Understood," the admiral bit out. She reached into her belt and removed a small holo projector. "I also have a communication from Coruscant. Your eyes only."
"Senate or Jedi?"
"The Jedi Council." The admiral handed it over. "From Grand Master Yoda himself."
Gladiolus breathed out slowly. If there were any among the Jedi who might know the truth about her nature, it would be their grand master. The supreme Jedi, wisest and strongest of the ten thousand living. He was meant to be best suited to guide the Jedi through any circumstance that might arise.
"Thank you for bringing this to me," the Sith Lord said. She set it aside. "If you have anything else to speak about—"
"I would like to remain while you listen to Master Yoda's message," said Admiral Yumerra. "It might not be my place, but I am the commander closest to you. I should know what threats we might… face from the Coreworlds."
The Sith Lord glanced between the holo projector and her admiral. She knew to deny Yumerra's request would place a divide between them that she might never overcome. Yumerra's loyalty was tantamount to victory over the Hutts. Yet Gladiolus could not bow to the will of another. Had it been her idea, she would not be so hesitant. But because Yumerra made the request, she wanted to deny her.
"I will keep any secrets which might be revealed," the admiral added.
"Such as?"
"…that you might not be a Jedi. At least, you aren't the one you claim to be."
Gladiolus stared at her admiral. The albino Twi'lek did not flinch. She stared at the Sith Lord, waiting onforer answer.
"I will permit it, but I will have more than your word, Yumerra. I will bind your promise to your life, and so ensure you never speak my secret to any who do not know."
"I understand, ma'am."
Gladiolus remained motionless as she found those threads in the Force that would ensure Yumerra's silence. She bound and corrected her admiral in a single heartbeat: "My lord."
Admiral Yumerra blinked. "Pardon?"
"You will address me as 'my lord' in private, admiral."
"…then you will tell me your secret?"
"Assuming this does not," said Gladiolus, picking the holo projector off her desk. "I suspect it will, yet I have no guarantees that shall come to pass. I can only guess what the Grand Master might say."
Admiral Yumerra hummed thoughtfully but said nothing.
Gladiolus activated the holo projector. A small, greenish figure appeared before her, dressed in simple Jedi robes. He had long, pointed ears, fuzzy hair, and a wide, wise face. Lines crisscrossed across the top of his head, strange wrinkles suggesting great age and experience.
"Greetings, Knight Wynn. If the recipient of this message you truly be, disregard everything else I say you must. Grave times we live in, and graver still they might grow."
The Sith Lord paused. It would be all too easy to deactivate the holo projector, to pretend to be the one she claimed to be. But she could not shake her curiosity over what the Jedi Grand Master wished to say. Gladiolus suspected he knew something of her, though the particulars would remain utterly unknown until he spoke his suspicions aloud.
"So this message continues," said the holographic Yoda. "And thus a Sith Lord you must be. Sensed you years ago, I did. Knew of your coming, I have. But expect you now I did not. When first I heard of a Jedi fighting Hutts, wondered who it might be I did. Briefly. But reflection and meditation have revealed to me your truth… Darth Gladiolus."
Her lips pinched tight at her naming. Though Gladiolus suspected the Jedi knew of a Sith Lord—of her—she did not fathom he might learn her name.
"Shrouded by the dark side the galaxy is. Yet you I have sensed clearly. Most curious this is. Understanding I have not received. Clarity I cannot expect from you."
"Yet you have sent this message, Master Jedi," Gladiolus murmured to herself. "You must have cause—"
"Only wish you know I know of you do I."
And with that, the Jedi giggled and vanished. The holo projector deactivated. Gladiolus set it on her desk and stared at the small device, pondering how the enemy managed to pierce the shroud of the dark side around Coruscant and sense her so clearly. She feared the shroud that protected her fellow Sith Lords did not extend to her. Or perhaps they had such control over it they allowed her presence to not be blocked. Grimacing, she stared at the device. Her mind blanked while searching for solutions concerning the troubling Jedi and his revelation that the Grand Master of the Jedi Order knew about Darth Gladiolus.
And yet she knew nothing could be done now. Nothing that did not risk her future aims.
And it's not as if he knows of the other Sith Lords running about the galaxy. I am set to become the center of his focus, and so permit the others to act with impunity.
"So that's what you are," said Admiral Yumerra, almost forgotten by the Sith Lord. She glanced at the albino Twi'lek. "A Sith Lord. Are you related to that other Sith who attacked us at Sleheyron?"
"Though it galls me to admit it, yes. That other Sith was the apprentice of a Sith enemy of mine. Unfortunately, it appears I have more foes than merely them and the Hutts."
"The Jedi."
Gladiolus nodded. "The Senate, once they learn of my presence, will declare me a foe as well. I am a danger to their order. One they have not faced since before Ruusan."
"The current Republic was founded in the wake of Ruusan."
"The Ruusan Reformation. Meant to prevent the wars between Jedi and Sith from ever devastating the galaxy." Gladiolus scoffed. "The Jedi have believed the Sith extinct these last thousand years. Unfortunately for them, the Sith have been operating under their nose the entire time."
Admiral Yumerra frowned. "How 'under their nose'?"
"One is tied to a Muun banking clan and another is the senator of a Mid Rim world."
Yumerra whistled lowly. "A senator, huh? Anyone prestigious? I know there's an up and comer from Naboo—involved with some nasty business over on Eriadu a while back."
Gladiolus paused and then frowned. "Eriadu?" she asked. Something about that name struck a chord within her. One she could not nail down. "What do you speak of?"
"I guess you wouldn't know, since you've been so focused on operations here in Hutt Space," her admiral said. "There was a meeting between representatives of the Trade Federation and the Senate over trade route taxation."
"Yes, yes. I've gathered that the Trade Federation has made their money by taking advantage of tax-free trade routes. So what happened? Have they been brought to heel, or has the Senate collapsed and given the Neimoidians all they desire?"
Admiral Yumerra shifted awkwardly. "The leadership of the Trade Federation, with a single exception, is dead. A terrorist drew the Jedi protection detail away from the meeting site, and the battle droids turned on their masters."
"And the survivor?"
"Their new viceroy, Gunray. Sounds like he stepped away from the meeting to address a business matter too important to ignore."
Gladiolus closed her eyes and reached out with the Force. She searched for the presence of Viceroy Gunray, wondering what she might discover wrapped around him. Seconds passed as she pushed and prodded—and then she sensed a dark side presence wrapped around him.
"How fascinating," she murmured. Her eyes opened to find Admiral Yumerra watching her curiously. "The viceroy has an alliance with another Sith. The one who's a senator, by the by." Gladiolus tilted her head. "You mentioned that the meeting on Eriadu was organized by the senator from Naboo, yes?"
Admiral Yumerra nodded slowly, brows furrowing.
"I believe everything that transpired on Eriadu was planned. The senator you speak of is the same one who is my foe, another Sith who desires control of the galaxy for his purposes." She smiled wryly. "And he will use what emerges from that incident as a means to further his grasp for power."
"That might take time, given a new monarch has recently been installed on Naboo," said Admiral Yumerra. She paused, incidentally signaling disbelief in whatever transpired. "A child."
"A child?"
"A fourteen-year-old queen. Padmé Amidala."
Gladiolus blinked. A thrum of understanding shot through her. She had been fourteen when she chose to set down the path of Sith Lord. Strange to think it had been so long ago. She recalled her age—twenty-one or twenty-two, she guessed—and realized she might just have the chance to grow old.
How fascinating and how strange to view fourteen as being a child.
"What happened to the prior monarch?" asked Gladiolus. "And is there any relation between the two?"
Yumerra shook her head, lekku fluttering softly around her neck. "The prior king was assassinated, judging from everything I have learned from you. The people of Naboo are otherwise keeping events close to the chest."
"Further evidence it was an assassination."
"So you say." The admiral twisted her lips for a few seconds before continuing: "I have learned that the Nubian monarchy does not follow the typical methods of succession. Theirs is an elected monarchy."
Gladiolus's nose wrinkled. She could not fathom having the title, prestige, and power of a title like queen and knowing it had been handed to her by an electoral rabble. She almost felt bad for the child queen; her power would be ceremonial, most likely. Not unless some crisis emerged that she could manage to work her way through, regardless of her lacking power. If that came to pass, then the girl could truly grasp power. She could even retain her crown after twisting the political machinery that operated Naboo into serving her personal interests over whatever constitution they possessed.
"Do you wish for me to keep an eye on Naboo?" asked Admiral Yumerra after some time. "Perhaps only their senator?"
"Senator and queen alike," said Gladiolus. "And if you can, also keep an eye on the movements of the Damask clan. Another of my enemies exists amongst them, and I do not wish to give him any evidence that I remain interested in his affairs."
Admiral Yumerra nodded. She projected the sense that she did not wish to know about whatever transpired between Gladiolus and Darth Plagueis, despite the opening left for her to push and prod. "I'll attend to the other fleets if you wish… my lord."
Gladiolus grinned at hearing her proper title uttered by one sworn to her service. "I would appreciate that, Admiral Yumerra. Once you finish, assign them their coming targets. I wish to strike Toydaria while they set other worlds aflame. We shall sever Nal Hutta from the rest of the galaxy."
The admiral nodded and strode from the chamber, quick to go about her issued duty. The Sith Lord glanced at the holo projector lying on her desk. The Jedi knew of her, if only a single one. Her admiral had learned the truth about her.
And I do not fear either. My position is almost all but secured.
Toydaria glowed with a weak, greenish light as it sat, muddy and rich, a hundred thousand kilometers away. Gladiolus stood on the Devastator's bridge, dressed in a modified black robe. Shimmering sleeves covered her arms while she wore pale gloves over her hands. The markings on her lips were permitted to be present upon her face as she stared upon the world before her.
Clipping footsteps approached from behind. Gladiolus peered over her shoulder as Admiral Yumerra reached her, a data pad pressed against her chest.
"My lord," the admiral whispered. "Word has arrived from the other fleets. They await your command."
Gladiolus smiled. Admiral Niem and the First Fleet had finally entered the Roark system intending to blockade it, while Admiral Hemmen and the Second prepared to seize the Varl system. The volunteers of the Sixth had been sent to Orondia, a rather worthless rock that happened to possess a refueling station near the Y'Toub system. She gambled with their lives, for they had volunteered to follow her. She had no reason to not use the lives they handed over as she pleased. The Fourth, constructed from ships claimed by Niem and Hemmen, was set to sack Du Hutta and then withdraw should Nal Hutta reinforcements arrive. Many in that fleet, Gladiolus knew, did not expect to live long. Many among them had suffered so terribly in factories and spice mines that they desired glorious death in battle over surviving the Hutts.
Should they survive Du Hutta, they will become my vanguard. I will find them every chance to achieve their desired deaths so that they might burn bright in the galaxy.
"Send word, then. Once they confirm the orders, our attack shall begin."
"As you wish."
She listened as Admiral Yumerra headed to the nearest comms officer. Gladiolus listened to their hushed conversation. Within ten minutes, transmissions returned from the other fleets. She knew before the admiral returned to her that the other fleets had all moved into action.
"Helm," Gladiolus commanded. The cruiser's pilot corps stiffened. "Jump us closer to Toydaria and broadcast demands for surrender. Inform the rest of the fleet that they're to follow suit. Until surrenders are accepted, they are to pursue their given objective."
"Accepted, ma'am?" asked a different bridge officer.
She glanced down into the pit behind on the right, where a couple humans worked side by side with a pack of Wookiees. Gladiolus's lips twitched at the sight. She turned away before she could giggle at the strange dichotomy between the haggard, pale-skinned humans and the massive, furred Wookiees. The Sith Lord breathed heavily through her nose before she said, "We are not beholden to any galactic laws claiming we need to accept surrenders immediately. If our objectives are served by… ignoring their pleas, then we do as we must." She sighed, turned, and allowed her gaze to wander across every face on the bridge, human or not. "I know this sounds troubling from my lips. But I have learned the hard way that one must act as they must, even if it… sours the soul. This is my burden to shoulder if you do not think you can stomach it alone."
The questioning crewman nodded. The Wookiees struck her as unbothered by what she said, though she imagined the indignity of slavery still sat heavy on them. She had not struck as many slavers as they wished to destroy. They would follow her from Hutt Space if she promised to continue her crusade, and eventually, she believed, they would return to their families on Kashyyyk.
I could tempt them with a jaunt to Trandosha, to visit a terrible repayment upon their reptilian foes. Gladiolus then shook her head. No, no. The Wookiees are a more civilized race. Revenge can come by other fashions, especially since both worlds are meant to be within the Republic. Perhaps their Senate can finally be put to good use, instead of being the playground of fools, parasites, and troubling Sith Lords.
The viewport of the HMS Devastator was briefly filled with star lines before Toydaria reappeared, larger and brighter than before. Several star yachts and barges loitered in orbit, content to remain above the muddy world below. Transmissions immediately fired from the Third Fleet as the cruisers and corvettes flying her banner appeared, arrayed around their flagship.
Gladiolus watched the yachts drift from her fleet's pressing course, heading for the nearest jump point. Part of her was tempted to intercept them all, but she wanted word of her actions to spread. She tapped her foot while watching them flee. She briefly wondered if some had weapons and wanted to move into a position where they could strike against her. But she sensed only fear and confusion from the fleeing ships. They wanted to be away, and none dared threaten her. In fact, Gladiolus sensed only confusion except from—
"Ready the tractor beam," the Sith Lord commanded without turning from the evolving battle before her. "I have a ship I want to fish out of orbit. Prepare a boarding party once we have it and stun everyone aboard."
Any confusion over her order was pacified by the knowledge that Gladiolus had not led them astray yet. Yes, there had been casualties across multiple war fronts. But war required sacrifice. In another lifetime, she had watched as someone she believed a friend sacrificed himself on a chessboard—a quaint stand-in for war—so she could move ahead and face the terrible foe before her.
"Tractor beam ready, ma'am."
The Sith Lord gestured to the ship she desired. She grinned once the lock was confirmed. Niem had yet to transfer the codes for the Y'Toub system. It no longer mattered, now. Once the shuttle was aboard, she kneeled before the transparisteel viewport, closed her eyes, and sunk into the power of battle meditation. She became all in the fighting for Toydaria. She would need to pierce the planetary defenses eventually, but for now, she acquainted herself with the messy task of obliterating what ship-based defenses the vassal world possessed.
After a few minutes of positioning, she sensed movement from Toydaria. A swarm of snubfighters and freighters, loaded with armaments aplenty, arose from several points across the planet's surface. Gladiolus smiled softly, caressing each enemy mind. She sought those most easily manipulated, most easily swayed, most easily ruined. She recalled the joy that bloomed in her heart when she turned Trandoshan bloodlust against them. She had duped those reptilian cretins and destroyed many without needing to commit her forces in full. Once more, she would turn enemy against enemy. Their weakness was hers to play with, to manipulate freely.
With the Force, she plucked the strings of weakness present in those most susceptible to her power. A smile graced her face at the first confirmation of enemy friendly fire. She continued plucking, drawing more and more enemies into deaths at the hands of their allies. Gladiolus sensed their confusion, their anger, and their fear. She pressed on each feeling, focused on whichever would bring about her final aim: the punishment of Toydaria for the simple crime of loyalty to the Hutts.
Light years separate from the fighting across Hutt Space, a large freighter began its approach to Nal Hutta. Its transponder codes rang green through the upgraded and updated planetary security systems, permitting it landing access without issue. As the vessel began its final approach to the surface, Landren breathed out heavily. He had wondered how they would move Belbo's first shipment onto the Hutt homeworld. When the man offered the very transponder codes he used to access the planet for business, Landren happily accepted them. He knew that the arms dealer would be out of business once interested parties learned his information was used to acquire access to Nal Hutta for Gladiolus's final act against the Hutts.
But he could not care. The dealer had fallen easily for Gladiolus's influence. So easily, in fact, Landren wondered if she had used the Force to gain Belbo's loyalty.
Knowing her, that's probably what she did.
He sighed before focusing on the task before him nonetheless. Soon every hyperlane to Nal Hutta would be cordoned off, blocked from traffic to or from the world. The fate of the Hutts was all but writ across the stars.
Landren allowed a growing smile, mad and brittle, to breach, cresting over him like a wave onto the shore. As she promised, Gladiolus would reshape the galaxy. What it would look like at the end, though, was anyone's guess.
He did his damndest to not think about her future.
Gladiolus watched as landing craft deployed from HMS Deathless, which hovered in low orbit. Three other cruisers lingered around the Deathless, joined by the reconstituted war barge claimed after the fighting over Ulmatra. They had deployed what ground forces they had to secure targets of interest, namely any Hutts onworld. She had ignored those who fled in the immediate wake of her arrival.
Her left flank busied themselves with mopping up the rest of the orbital defenders, accepting surrenders on a whim. Some who requested it received it, while others were burned the moment the word was transmitted. She found their choices rather peculiar, but she did not focus her mind on that nasty business.
The clicking footsteps of Admiral Yumerra approached. She turned and stared at the albino Twi'lek. The woman had learned to mask her feelings, though leaking hints still appeared around the edges.
"I assume we have been victorious on every battlefield?" asked the Sith Lord.
Her admiral nodded. "They will require time to repair and refit captured ships. I believe we should wait a month—"
"Thirteen days," whispered Gladiolus, silencing Yumerra. "In thirteen days, our full strength, whatever it is, will enter the Y'Toub system using the codes we now possess. We will put an end to Hutt dominion over any space. They will be reviled and hated as they deserve, and we shall be seen as saviors. Victors.
"Heroes."